


Fire Neglects the Cries of What It Burns

by thecenturies



Series: Endless Summer [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Hurt No Comfort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecenturies/pseuds/thecenturies
Summary: Even summer must end.This is a direct sequel toHow Hope Answers the Water Rail's Knock.Please read that first before proceeding. Also, please mind the tags.
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Series: Endless Summer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110719
Comments: 92
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

*

It baffles Theo how he didn’t see it coming.

Liam was insatiable.

They fucked all the time.

In the mornings when, more often than not, Theo would become aware of Liam cuddled against him with a giant boner and his hand low on Theo’s belly, just waiting until he woke up enough for Liam to ask if it was okay, and Theo always said yes, always wanted it, welcomed Liam’s fondling hand playing with his balls and gripping his cock, the slow lick of Liam’s tongue on his nape.

A couple of times, he gave Liam permission the night before to do what he wanted the morning after, and by the time he fully woke up there were only a few moments between him registering what was happening and blowing his load in Liam’s mouth, and then, quickly after, Liam gasping and saying he was close and asking hurriedly if he could do it in Theo’s mouth, too. The answer was always yes.

He offered to give Liam blanket permission to use his body even in his sleep, but Liam declined gently, explained his own discomfort with such an arrangement. While Liam tended to be at his most amorous in the early mornings and always wanted it, he told Theo he didn’t want to put him in the position of feeling awkward with having given _carte blanche_ only to change his mind. It was better to ask every time. Theo has only ever said no once, and only because he had to attend a work call scheduled to accommodate attendees based out of Israel. Between showering, coffee, and preparing for the call, there just wasn’t time.

They did it once or twice in the middle of the day. Often when Liam returned from a run or from working out at the gym, keyed up from his exercise and horny, turned on by the fact that Theo loves him like that, sweaty, flushed, ripe, looking and smelling masculine as hell. And Theo would all but scramble from his work desk to worship Liam’s body, sniffing, licking, kissing him everywhere. Theo always came away from it smelling like Liam, which they both loved.

Sometimes Liam blew Theo during work calls, kneeling there just in front of the desk. His timing was uncanny the way he got Theo off just as Theo needed to start actively participating in the call.

Other times he joined when Liam jerked off in the living room. If it was to straight porn, Liam watched it on his phone and Theo jerked off watching him. If it was videos of them together—and, god, they took so many of them, first at Liam’s shy but eager request, and then all the time because it turned out Theo is also really into it—Liam AirPlayed it from his phone to the huge TV and they got off together. Liam would always cum in Theo’s mouth, the way they both like.

It was at night when Theo’s urges peaked. They usually fucked longer this time around, enjoying each other’s bodies in a leisurely way instead of the singleminded focus on helping each find the other’s way to orgasms as quickly as possible the way they did in the morning and during the day. It was here that they discovered more and more about each other’s likes and dislikes, learning how to better fuck together and be together.

Sometimes they talked in the middle of it, saying their thoughts as they thought them. There was dirty talk and even fantasies, filthy in the way they articulated them and intimate in how they shared the experience together.

They fucked so much even Mason with his normal sense of smell had commented that they always smelled of the sweet almond oil they used as lube when they fucked into each other’s thighs or jerked each other off.

Liam was self-aware about the intensity of his own sex drive. It softened Theo’s heart every time Liam checked in with him about it to make sure they were still on the same page, that they both wanted it as much as he did.

Theo was so emotionally and sexually fulfilled, so gratified how much Liam loved and desired him, so overwhelmed by Liam’s affection and attention, that he came to accept that this was just how things were.

And he was right: This was how they were together. Incredibly sexually active and incredibly sexually compatible.

He neglected to consider that Liam’s intense sex drive exists as its own individual phenomenon outside of their relationship, outside the context of their love and desire for each other.

He neglected to consider that Liam would be just as horny and would want sex just as much when he went off to college while Theo stayed at home in Beacon Hills.

That Liam’s needs, desires, and enormous capacity for affection are integral parts of him whether or not Theo was there to be the object of them.

Worse, he forgot that being with him was the anomaly. That, in an important way, sex with him, their relationship, no matter how good, how fulfilling, or how right it felt for the both of them, went against Liam’s nature.

In retrospect Theo should’ve known better, been more prepared.

They both should’ve.

*


	2. Chapter 2

*

It’s Theo’s second year as Project Manager at the same company. Things at work continue to be fantastic. He’s happy there and professionally fulfilled. He has the option to work remote but goes into the office anyway, eager to be around his colleagues and his boss, Shohreh, who seems more invested in Theo’s career than even he himself is.

He has more money than he knows what to do with, even with the outrageous cost of living in San Francisco. To be fair, his needs are few: rent, utilities, gym and museum memberships, food (and his work contracts a catering company to provide breakfast and lunch for employees who come into the office). He goes out now and then, mostly with work friends, for drinks, dinner, movies and shows, and cultural events.

He has a standing arrangement with Shohreh and her husband, Alain, of eating at fine dining restaurants in the city and around NorCal every two months, for which he budgets at least $500.

But for the most part the bulk of his income gets piled into his savings account, and he gets on well with his otherwise relatively spartan life.

He misses the open floor plan of his old loft in Beacon Hills but he loves his two-bedroom apartment in the North Beach neighborhood of San Francisco. The living area is spacious enough to replicate a cozier version of the setup he had at his loft. The second bedroom he turned into an office library with a queen Murphy bed stowed away and disguised to look like part of the wall bookshelves.

He doesn’t put up any pictures. Most of them were from around that time, and he’d rather not have the constant reminder.

His apartment is close to the water and Golden Gate Park, his favorite parts of the city and where he spends most of his time, going for walks and runs, hiking, watching the sunset three or four times a week.

He bought an electric longboard to use as his primary mode of transportation around the city. He rides it to and from work. He goes on joyrides at Golden Gate Park, along the stretch of the Embarcadero, and up and down Market Street now that cars are restricted from it. He rides it to visit with friends who also live in the city, though he much prefers to host them at his place.

Malia visits sometimes, mostly when she has business with her accounts in the Bay Area, boutique dispensaries for which her company is a supplier. How she ended up in the cannabis industry no one is really sure. But it’s working out well for her. And Theo is always glad to see her.

She stays with him when she’s in town, of course. Theo has even given her a copy of the keys to his apartment. He cooks dinner for her, though she prefers to stuff herself with meat at the all-you-can-eat Brazilian churrascaria on Market and Gough. They always get carried away, eating so much more than they can truly handle comfortably, and they have to hobble out to the street to wait for their Lyft to take them back to Theo’s place where they spend the rest of the night bloated and thirsty from all the salt.

They run a lot. In the morning right after coffee, before breakfast and before they each have to leave for work.

They run at night through Golden Gate Park, sometimes fully shifted, keeping to the wilder, more secreted areas, as far from human activity as possible.

Once, Malia went hunting, and Theo looked on with horror and amazement as she feasted on her prey.

They roughhouse, too. They are fiercer with each other than either of them ever dares to be with anyone else in the pack. Malia always insists on it, ever since that first time that one summer, the best summer of Theo’s life, which he recalls with a torturous mix of tenderness and heartbreak, when they clashed together so wildly that they left a ruin of felled trees and cracked boulders in the radius of their combat.

Malia beat his ass the first couple of times. He nearly won the third time, but he was distracted by his own arrogance at his impending win that she ended up beating his ass again.

He didn’t mind it. He was always taken care of really well after, wrapped up in the euphoria of pain being siphoned from him, the gentle touch of a loving hand tracing with warm fingers the shape of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, stroking his bruised cheeks, his swollen lips, and always that overwhelming love and affection.

He still wakes up crying sometimes from dreams of being touched that way. The memory of them—god, he has so many—pains him now more than words can say.

Regardless, he and Malia have become friends.

Corey and Mason swing by for dinner every few months or so when it’s Corey’s turn to visit Mason at Stanford. Fridays, usually. The two of them meet in San Francisco with Theo, Corey driving down from Sacramento State and Mason taking Amtrak up.

They catch up on each other’s lives. Theo tells them about Malia and Scott as well, since he always has the freshest news about them and about Beacon Hills. They get to know each other better and become closer. They talk about everything and everyone except for the one thing and the one someone.

Out of respect for him. Out of respect for the both of them.

Corey lived on campus for a couple of years and was an RA at his dorm, though he has since moved to his own apartment in time for his junior year.

Mason rents a small three-bedroom house with a fellow student, Sean, who is an insane mixture of party boy and genius, and Mason love-hates keeping up with him. Sean covers rent for both the master bedroom where he stays and the third bedroom which he turned into an art studio. Mason knows how much he lucked out having only one housemate, especially after all the horror stories he’s heard from and witnessed with school friends who have sociopathic or filthy roommates, four of five of them crammed into two-bedroom houses.

Corey and Mason each get up to some crazy adventures.

Sometimes Theo envies them their college experience.

They’re both happy, he is glad to know. Their personalities and their lives, their goals for the future, all seem suited well to their long-distance relationship. And somehow they’re growing up together even though they spend most of their time apart.

He envies them that, too, with a broken heart full of regret.

There is only one other he misses more, and she’s also on the other side of the country. Lydia loves it at MIT, though she hates the weather in Massachusetts. Where Theo’s and Malia’s personalities mesh well together, he and Lydia share a familiar internal world.

It was poetry, at first, that they bonded over. Lydia is incredibly well read and she was not underwhelmed to discover that Theo at least tries to keep up with literature. She shared with him her login credentials to her New Yorker digital subscription, and it became a jumping off point for their relationship, talking about the features, exploring the writers and artists profiled in it and whose works were sampled.

It’s that connection that encouraged him to get memberships to most of the museums in San Francisco. They send each other pictures of different art they come across.

They got into a string of oneupmanship once when Theo sent her a picture taken with his phone of a truly well done piece of street art he found in an alley in the Tenderloin. They spent nearly three weeks making a pilgrimage throughout their respective cities, spamming each other’s phones with found art.

Sometimes when Theo’s loneliness gets the better of him, when the mended fissures in his heart begin to fracture once more with yearning and with love that no longer has anywhere to go, he sends her lines of poetry or prose that echo the sounds of his own heart breaking.

She sends some back. Often they’re comforting lines, but sometimes they’re of acceptance, other times of wallowing.

It was during one of these when she sent him a haiku by Izumi Shikibu that not only is Theo familiar with but was exactly the one he always read to help him wrestle with his feelings through all of those months leading up to that wonderful summer.

 _Even if I now saw you_  
 _only once,_  
 _I would long for you_  
 _through worlds,_ _  
worlds._

He has never told her about it, and he still wonders whether she remembers seeing the book which features it on his shelves.

It’s a soft warning, a delicate rejection. It’s what Theo tried to tell him that night when he confessed his love, when he asked Theo if they could be together.

It’s why Theo tried to say no.

Theo should’ve tried harder.

But now he’s seen him, and now he longs for him.

He replied only, _Fuck_.

To which Lydia said only, _Yeah_.

Stiles he’s seen only a couple of times outside of holidays in Beacon Hills. First when Theo’s company chose to have their annual meeting at the Washington, DC office. And then again the year after when he attended an industry convention also held in DC. Stiles insisted on dragging him to Virginia and showing him around—showing _off_ , really—to his colleagues and work friends. He insisted that Theo flirt with him as hard as he can to make everybody not just jealous but super confused because they all know about Lydia. And Theo was more than happy to oblige.

He still laughs when Stiles sends him the odd text here and there, letting him know that so-and-so from work is asking about the hottie from California and begging him to send a pic to show them.

He was feeling particularly trolly one time and sent a mirror selfie of him at the gym, shirtless and sweating, his muscles still bulging from the workout. He figured he got the chaos he was hoping for when Stiles sent a video to the pack’s Slack chat of his work friends reacting hilariously and thirstily to seeing the picture of Theo.

Mason, of course, asked to see the picture as well, and Stiles sent it to the chat.

Everyone reacted immediately with emoji and scandalized messages hassling Theo for being the giant boy-whore they never get tired of calling him.

Well, almost everyone reacted.

And it became apparent from Mason’s sudden silence in the chat that perhaps he was getting a talking-to from him on the side for instigating.

It was the last time Theo sent a thirst pic to Stiles for his work friends to gawk at.

Derek and Scott eventually settle in Beacon Hills. One driven by obligation to the legacy of his family, the other beholden to the legacy of the decisions he made and the impact they left behind.

They hold it down well. They have allies—the Sheriff, Braeden, Argent, Noshiko, among others. Though sometimes Scott calls on Theo just to be on the safe side, and because he knows Theo would want to reassure himself about the safety of one household in particular.

*

He misses them with an ache that’s difficult to get past even on the best of days. He was there, for the year that they were together, and kept an eye on them, came by to visit and to make sure they didn’t get too lonely while a piece of them, a big piece of all three of them, was away. Theo made them breakfast, just like he asked him to do for them, and did yard work as well. He came over for dinner some nights and sat with them around the table, sometimes a laptop took the fourth spot where the screen showed a video call in progress so they could all eat together that way, the four of them.

Like a family.

Theo kept the promise he made to him, until eventually it became inappropriate to do so.

They send him cards for Christmas, for his birthday. He sends them the same, though he addresses them either to the hospital or to her office. Never to the house where anyone might see, especially when everyone is home for the holidays or in the event there’s a surprise visit on either of their birthdays, which has happened before.

And so he stopped. He left. He said goodbye, of course. And they both understood, teared up for him as they watched him pick up the pieces of his heart there on their porch when they noticed him looking at the wall where certain pictures got taken down eventually, as appropriate, when their son asked it of them when things changed. They waved to him as he backed out of their driveway on his truck for the last time.

It wasn’t long before he had to pull over, driving mechanically into a parking spot to let the worst of it happen there. He thought he was in the clear, having mopped up the mess of his wet face with his shirt. But then he looked up and found himself parked in front of their favorite ice cream shop.

It was some time before he could get himself together enough to make the drive back home.

He doesn’t remember much of the rest of that day, only that he made it home, the fully stamped ice cream shop cards crumpled in his fist.

He had been saving them to use for the next time they were going to be together at home.

He didn’t have any use for them anymore.

*

He moved his life to San Francisco, the city that changed everything.

The city where that summer will always live.

He didn’t tell anyone at first.

He regrets that now.

Still, Malia came by unannounced and found most of his loft packed up in boxes. He didn’t have to say anything. She understood. She came by several more times that week, sometimes with Scott, to help him pack up the last of everything for the moving guys to load into the truck.

“What about these?” She asked, gesturing toward the bicycle hanging on the wall, the pair of helmets, the backpack with a lacrosse stick strapped to it, the footlocker that used to sit at the foot of the bed in the second bedroom.

“Can you take it back to them? All of it.” He replied, voice cracking. “I don’t think I can.”

“And those?” She added, pointing to the picture frames and odds-and-ends loaded up in a box labeled, _L_ , the blue bandana sitting on top of the pile. “Are you taking those with you?”

“They’re my memories, too.” They are.

“He’s coming home in a couple of weeks,” she told him gently. “For spring break. Scott told me last night.”

“That’s good,” Theo choked out. “Everybody misses him.”

“He said he’s bringing her for a couple of days before she flies back home to Portland or whatever for the rest of the break.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t be nice to her,” Malia told him loyally.

He still laughs when he thinks about the way she looked when she said that, like her enhanced sense of smell just got assaulted by an awful stink.

“You weren’t nice to me at first either.”

“I’m nice to you now.”

“It’s not her fault, Malia.”

“No. It’s his.”

He doesn’t regret what he asked her to do then.

“Please. Welcome him home. He loves you guys.”

“And who’s gonna welcome you home at that new apartment of yours?”

“I know how to be alone. I just forgot for a little bit.”

“You’re not alone, Theo.”

“No, but it’s not the same.”

“No. It’s not the same.”

It was the first time he cried in front of Malia.

It was also the first time Malia ever held him to give comfort.

It wouldn’t be the last.

*


	3. Chapter 3

*

Two years is a long time.

He’s as content as he allows himself to be, which, over time and with support from his friends, most of the pack, is enough to live on.

The first year after everything, the first year in San Francisco, he threw himself into work and into getting to know the city. He was lonely and unhappy, heartbroken and in pain. But being away from Beacon Hills helped. Being in San Francisco helped him heal.

He loves it here.

He has even dated here and there, but mostly just now, his second year of being here, going on his third. Some guys around his age, but otherwise mostly men in their thirties, though it’s largely because that’s the age group he’s most often exposed to at work and the social circles he moves in because of work.

His colleagues and friends often forget how young he is. Shohreh has to be reminded, constantly even as she introduces him to men in their forties, that he’s not even in his mid-twenties.

Theo has gone out with a couple of them—just casual blind dates that Shohreh set him up for. They were shocked and embarrassed to see how young Theo was. Still, they went through it. A lunch here, drinks there. They were gentlemen, and Theo liked them just fine. One he even kissed. His name is Arjun, and Shohreh introduced the two of them the year before. He was gentle and respectful, though reserved in how he kissed Theo back.

Theo liked the feel of his beard. If he’s honest, that was why he decided to do it in the first place.

Still, he liked Arjun and asked if they could see each other again. He remembers how gently Arjun took his hands, how he kissed Theo’s knuckles and said, “As friends, sure. You’re young, Theo. Be young for a little while longer.”

Theo took him up on it, and sometimes they go to the museum together.

There have been plenty of kisses with other guys, but no sex. Not because he doesn’t want to—he does; god, does he ever—but he just…can’t seem to. Every time things start heading in that direction, he finds himself falling into performativity, tries to power through it and make his body cooperate until finally he just gives up, makes excuses as he backs off and lets these guys down.

He earns a little bit of a reputation with his friends and colleagues for being a tease, and they hassle him for it and threaten him that they won’t introduce him to guys anymore.

He just laughs them off.

He thinks maybe he’s broken, somehow. He doesn’t tell anyone about his issues, though he thinks Mason suspects. And it’s not like he can’t get it up, _at all_. Everything works great when it’s just him alone.

It’s when he’s with someone else that his body refuses to go.

It’s not a big deal. Not really.

It’s just how things are right now.

It won’t be forever.

He’ll get better. He _is_ getting better.

*

There is a small plastic case with a couple of 512 GB microSD cards somewhere in the box labeled, _L_ , which he keeps stowed away in the depths of his closet, buried under suitcases and bags.

They got pretty crazy that summer, and every time he came home to Theo during breaks and holidays, or when Theo flew out to see him. He always insisted on recording at the highest possible quality, to the point where the videos and pictures no longer fit on either his phone or his MacBook and had to be offloaded to microSD cards.

The ones in the box are Theo’s copies, of course, which he made for him.

He has the originals in his own phone and MacBook and microSD cards. Or had. Theo doesn’t know if he’s deleted them, tries not think about it. Tries not think about him keeping them for some reason, and whether that means anything.

Stop, Theo. Stop.

He watched those videos a lot that first year after. Jerking off desperately to recordings of what he used to have, what they used to have together, the filthy and loving ways they fucked.

He felt awful and ashamed every time. And he often cried right after, wracked with the agony of so much love and longing.

But despite the shame and the pain, for a long time Theo couldn’t _not_ watch them, couldn’t stop wondering whether he jerked off to them, too, whether Theo was alone in it, or if he was with Theo, feeling the same things, thinking the same things, wanting the same things. Wanting him back.

He stopped eventually. Pulled the box out from his closet, dropped the plastic case in there with the rest of it, sealed it with so much packing tape that he ran out.

He hasn’t opened the box since.

Sometimes he thinks about burning it. Even came close a couple of times, going so far as to purchase a can of kerosene at the hardware store a few of blocks away from his apartment and added a burn bin to his Amazon cart.

He never goes through with it.

He sees in his mind’s eye the flames engulfing those memories, and he loses his nerve.

They’re his memories.

They’re the only things he can touch that prove even to himself that, once, he was loved deeply and passionately by the one he loves the most.

That it ended doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

It did.

It did happen.

His heart bears the scars to prove it.

*

When it got out that he was leaving Beacon Hills, Malia and Scott fully planned to help him with the move, but he told them that he was okay to do it alone. And when Scott insisted, he just said firmly that it was something he needed to do on his own. Scott acquiesced.

The truth was he couldn’t stand the looks Scott kept giving him—these sad, regretful, full-hearted expressions of sorriness underpinned with a sense of I-told-you-so.

And Scott did tell him so, that summer, the night of the dinner party the first time he had the pack over at his old place. Scott had helped Theo with the washing up and had asked him straight up what he was trying to do with him, if he was pursuing him.

He had told him the truth: No, he wasn’t.

And Scott had looked visibly relieved. Not because he didn’t approve of Theo, but because he had known then what they both know about him, what they all know about him, and why Theo hadn’t wanted to get into it in the first place.

But Theo actually needed help with the move. Thank god Malia realized it and helped anyway. He still doesn’t know what she told Scott, and he never asked. Probably the truth, since Malia doesn’t deal in obfuscations. She probably told him that Theo didn’t want his pitying looks to be the last thing he sees as he left the ruins of his old life behind.

*

Corey and Mason visited him a couple of weeks after he moved in to his San Francisco apartment. They were both on their way back to Beacon Hills for spring break of their sophomore year. Everyone else was, even Lydia and Stiles.

Everyone else was coming home.

It was Lydia who first said she was returning to Beacon Hills for the break and that she wanted to see everyone. It didn’t take much. There was a powerful yearning for each other that they all felt that year.

They all asked him, of course. To come up, to come see and be with everyone.

To come home.

“I can’t,” he told every single one of them, individually because each of them asked.

Except for him, of course. He and Theo don’t talk.

And they each understood.

They surprised him toward the end of that week. He came home to an apartment full of people; Lydia, Stiles, Mason, Corey, Scott, and Malia who let them all in with her key, all of them making themselves at home in his new home. They made a huge dinner and set the table.

Even the drunkies were already buzzed.

It was only Lydia who was going to make the drive down, but once everyone found out they all wanted to come with.

There was an awkward moment when Stiles pulled out his phone and was obviously recording Theo pour vodka shots when Theo noticed and asked, “Please don’t post that. Actually, can I ask everybody for a social media embargo?”

“What? Why?” Stiles asked irritatedly.

“Stiles,” Lydia said, touching his arm.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” was all Theo said.

Of course, it probably didn’t matter much, anyway, because they decided years ago that it would be safer for the pack if they all set their phones to share locations with each other.

So he probably knew already where they all were.

Still. They understood.

Some looked abashed. Mason in particular, who later talked to Theo in private.

“Sorry about my posts this week,” he told Theo. “I should’ve filtered you out.”

“What, no. Don’t apologize. It’s your life. You get to live it. He’s your best friend. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, but he was all over it.”

Theo just shrugged.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Mason asked worriedly.

“Yeah.”

Mason’s posts of selfies of himself with his arm around him when they first saw each other that week. Videos of the two of them goofing off together. Even with the sound off, Theo’s mind easily supplied the sound of his laughter, his voice.

He looked good. Longhaired and clean shaven. Maybe that was how she liked him. Not that it matters how he does his hair or grooms his face.

He will always be handsome to Theo.

He seemed happy, anyway.

“Did you notice how he—”

“Yeah.”

Theo knew what Mason was getting at.

Sometime later that week, after she left, probably, he let his beard grow in, not as full as it used to be since it was only a couple of days’ growth, but he was always able to grow facial hair super fast.

And then he got that haircut.

Theo saw it all over Instagram where the pack posted so many pictures and videos while they partied at Mason’s pool or Lydia’s house or just hung out.

“I yelled at him for it,” Mason said. “I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Malia, too. She told him to his face that you’re not coming to Beacon Hills. And that even if she’s pissed off about it she’s glad because at least you wouldn’t have to see the bullshit he was trying to pull with that haircut and that beard. He really thought you were going to come.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Theo’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he was going to pass out.

“Because he knows you’re going to drive yourself crazy thinking about it,” Malia said, raising her voice over the din of the music. She was eavesdropping, of course; so was everyone, come to think of it. How very them. “At least this way it’s out, and you can talk about it if you want to.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Theo said then to all of them. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

He still tells himself the same thing, even now, when his courage and his heart need shoring up. When he has to remind himself that he’s doing the right thing for moving on. For staying away.

“I hate this,” Scott said, sniffling.

They abandoned their plans to drive back to Beacon Hills that night. Lydia, Malia, Scott, and Stiles took Theo’s bed since it’s big enough to fit all four of them.

He offered the Murphy bed to Corey and Mason while he himself was going to take the couch.

“Don’t be stupid,” Corey said. “There’s enough room for all three of us.”

There wasn’t, but all three of them piled in together anyway.

Corey spooned him from the back and rubbed his chest gently while he cried into Mason’s chest, drenching his shirt.

“I miss him so much.”

*

After they left the next day, Theo rode his electric longboard to the Japanese Tea Garden.

He sat on that bench among the cherry blossom trees in full bloom and cried into the blue bandana.

Every gust of wind rained pink petals on him.

It was so beautiful.

They never got to see this together.

Strangers asked if he was okay, if he needed them to call anybody for him. He waved them off, told them that he was fine.

He was just saying goodbye to someone.

*

That was day he packed the bandana in the box and sealed the whole thing up.

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

The summer of their first year anniversary was the beginning of the end.

Theo spoke to the apartment building’s property manager about reserving a section of the rooftop deck for the party. It was a bit of a hassle because it was the 4th of July, and the rooftop deck was a popular spot for the tenants to go watch the fireworks.

Fortunately, renting a section of the space was an option, and Theo was only too happy to pay if that’s what it was going to take.

There was more to celebrate. He had just gotten promoted to Project Manager earlier that year, and it came with a huge pay bump.

Theo thought about getting the party catered but he objected. He said his dad would love to be part of it, to be in charge of the meat. And anyway the pack all wanted to pitch in and spend the day together, so there were plenty of hands to help with the preparation.

In reality, it ended up being super chaotic in the kitchen, but there was a lot of booze for those who could get drunk and it definitely helped things along.

Everybody enjoyed themselves.

He, on the other hand, seemed subdued. Theo noticed it immediately and wondered at it. He asked him, of course, and checked in.

But he just waved Theo off.

After everything ends, Theo will remember how that summer when he was home he saw him on his phone more than ever, smiling into it as he tapped away.

Theo will remember how most of the time when they fucked, Theo was the one who reached for him. That sometimes they would be so out of step with each other that one or both of them couldn’t cum no matter how much either of them tried.

It was anomalous to say the least. He wonders, though, why he didn’t think to talk to him about it. They were always honest and open with each other.

He supposes even then he already sensed a wall going up between them, and he feared what was on the other side of it.

*

The phone call came late in September. It was in the afternoon and Theo had just ended his work day.

Which, of course, he must’ve known before he called.

When Theo’s phone rang and displayed his name and his picture, his heart fluttered the way it always does around him.

He didn’t wonder why it was a regular phone call instead of FaceTime which they used almost exclusively.

He remembers taking the call and saying, “Hey, handsome,” brightly, happily, flirtatiously, the way he always did when he greeted him.

He remembers his heart dropping to his stomach when he replied in a weird voice, “I need to tell you something.”

Theo thinks he asked him if he was okay, if he was in danger, if he needed help, if he was hurt.

“I’m okay. It’s not like that.”

“What’s going on?”

And then a silence so long Theo would’ve thought the call disconnected if he didn’t hear his breath on the line, if he didn’t hear the receiver picking up the scrape of his beard on the phone’s screen and bezel.

“I met someone.” His tone specific. Pointed. Unmistakable.

“Oh.”

“I…” An audible swallow. “I had sex with her.”

“Oh.”

“I think I wanna be with her.”

Theo knew he was crying, sobbing as quietly as he could even as his life was turned upside-down, even as he dissociated and tried to gather the pieces of himself breaking.

“Theo?”

“Okay,” Theo whispered, defeated. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Theo remembered his promise to him. To always be there for him. To take him where he needed to go to be happy, even if it wasn’t going to be with him. He supposed letting go was part of that, too.

Did he remember?

An uncharitable part of Theo wondered if that was what seemed to make it easier for him, if he was banking on Theo’s love for him to ease the way.

“All right.” More to himself than anything. To steady what remained standing even as everything else unbuckled.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Will you tell me you love me? One last time. Even if you don’t mean it.”

To this day he still sometimes hates himself for it. Hates his weakness for having asked. He will forgive himself for it, eventually, will come to know that his heart needed it in that moment.

He knows, even now, that he needed it to be the last thing he hears his voice say to him.

“I love you, Theo.”

It sounded just like all the other times. When they were close, when they held each other, when they kissed, when they fucked, when he was so full of love for Theo that he couldn’t contain it and he trembled and cried and said, “I love you, Theo.”

For a moment Theo’s heart seemed to piece back together, like a vase breaking in reverse. For a moment he felt a split-second of happiness.

“Thank you. Please be happy.”

He disconnected the call.

And then he just disconnected.

*

Theo didn’t tell anyone what happened.

It didn’t matter, because he must have. He must’ve told Mason, at least, who told Corey, and they both must’ve told Malia, who told Scott, who told Stiles, who told Lydia.

They all called Theo. Malia and Scott came by his apartment and checked on him.

Malia asked him worriedly why he didn’t tell anyone.

“I was ashamed,” he said to them both.

They asked him what happened, and he told them about the phone call, what they each said to the other.

It made Scott cry.

Theo ended up having to comfort him.

*

He tried to make things easier for himself.

He’s always been a survivor, and just because he’d gotten soft it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten.

He started with the pictures.

He thought about removing them from their frames but decided against it, couldn’t bear the idea of having to look at them while he unhoused them.

He went through the living room first. Then his work desk where he put his favorites of the two of them together so he could look at them while he worked and be reminded how that love changed the course of his life, how the career and opportunities he had now will let them keep living the kind of life he wants for himself and for both of them.

The bedroom next and those at his bedside table. He also grabbed his favorite pillow to remove from their bed and to return to the other room.

This room was going to be more difficult. It wasn’t just the two of them here. It was him in here. A snapshot of him, frozen in time while he was away.

Still. He started with the pictures of them together.

The other pictures—of Mason, Corey, him, his parents—he put in the footlocker, to return to him with the rest of his stuff.

Then there were the pictures of Theo himself. He put quite a lot of them up, there on an entire wall, gallery-style.

Theo decided to put them all with the rest of the things of theirs. He doubted he would want them anyway. Better to save them both the awkwardness.

In the kitchen, he went to unplug the espresso machine and stashed it somewhere out of sight in the pantry. He emptied the cupboard of his favorite mugs he likes to drink his latte out of. Theo set most of them aside to throw out.

One he saved to put in the box.

He took down all the notes on the fridge with his terrible cursive, mostly grocery lists that he hadn’t thrown out for some reason, some random scribbles, a handful of _I love you_ notes with smiley faces drawn with fangs and fearsome eyebrows and heart-eyes colored in red.

“Get it?” He used to say to Theo, prodding him in the belly. “‘Cause I may be a beta werewolf but I’m an alpha of looove.” Laughing his happy laughter, pecking little kisses all over Theo’s face while he growled his playful alpha of love growls. And Theo would act bothered and long-suffering, complain about his beard scratching his eyes, but he loved every second of it, wrapped his arms around him and held him close, leaned his face in for him to kiss, his heart aching in his chest with so much love for him.

He filled Theo’s life with happy moments like that.

He put those in the box as well.

Next were his favorite wooden spoon and the shitty spatula he used exclusively to cook with even though Theo had bought all these other new ones.

“But I like these ones,” he would say every time Theo pointed to the newer utensils. He made Theo countless meals with them.

Into the box they went.

Theo gave himself credit that he managed to do it without falling apart.

He even made himself dinner and was surprised at his own appetite.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed when things went straight to hell. He was brushing his teeth when his eyes caught sight of his toothbrush there in the cup.

He lost it right there.

He ended up sleeping that night in the other room instead of theirs, surrounded by his stuff, the box of their life together shoved next to the footlocker, the bag with the lacrosse stick strapped to it just there in his line of sight, Theo’s face buried in his favorite pillow while he cried his heart out, alone in that room.

He didn’t even rinse the toothpaste from his mouth.

*

It was the moment he decided to leave.

*

It took some time.

The housing market in San Francisco is truly ludicrous. What availabilities there were wanted an exorbitant amount in rent, and Theo was starting to lose hope.

The surrounding suburbs’ rental rates were more forgiving, but he wanted to live in the city proper.

He let his colleagues and work friends know that he was looking to move to San Francisco and to keep an eye out for him.

He got a response about a week later, from someone he had a mutual acquaintance with. John, from the design team, who was planning on breaking his lease so he could move his family to DC where his in-laws were so they could help him and his wife with the new baby.

The only catch was it won’t be until spring.

Theo jumped on it.

He didn’t mind waiting.

*

Theo is proud that he was able to hold it together for the months after. He mourned only in private, and otherwise made himself presentable in public.

He doesn’t know how he managed it, but he got on with work as usual, worked out at the gym as usual, ran the preserve with Malia as usual.

He decided to say goodbye to the Geyers soon after the phone call. They already knew, of course. He must’ve told them that same week, because she had called Theo on the phone and told him how sorry she was, how shocked she was when she found out.

Christmas was weird that year.

Scott and Malia invited him over to theirs, and the three of them made the rounds together, visiting with everyone else’s families.

Except his, of course.

At least not with Theo accompanying them.

The pack texted him and called him with invitations for New Year’s Eve. He declined.

He was in town, and he was spending time with everyone for the holidays. Of course Theo would have to decline.

It was impossible to accept and to risk making things awkward for everyone by being in the same room as him.

Instead he drove his truck to the preserve, parked far enough away to give himself plenty of wilderness to run, fully shifted, all the way to the overlook.

Midnight struck, and he howled his pain, his heartbreak, his loss, his yearning, his love, out into the night sky, hoping the explosion of fireworks would drown him out.

He howled, and howled, and howled.

He never thought he would feel this alone again.

*

He returned to his truck to find several missed calls on his phone as well as text messages.

There was one from him.

_I heard you. I’m so sorry._

He cried for a long time after that, spent the night sleeping in his truck.

Just like before. When he didn’t have a home.

*


	5. Chapter 5

*

The year they were together was the happiest Theo has ever felt.

Theo remembers vividly the night they watched the 4th of July fireworks, when he saw through Theo to the fear he was hiding, the skepticism Theo couldn’t help feeling, about the two of them, about him, and assured Theo that his love for him was real, his desire for him was real.

That Theo was _it_ for him.

Theo believed him with his whole heart. He was telling the truth. Of course he was.

Or what he felt was true at the time.

Still. Theo doesn’t blame him. He knows he truly believed what he was feeling.

And he was always the most honest person Theo has ever known.

He may have stumbled. But he was honest even in the end, to tell Theo what his heart wanted.

*

If Theo thought he was in love before, during the months they went from enemies to reluctant allies to the closest of friends, it was nothing compared to the weeks that followed after they confessed their love for each other, before he had to leave for school.

He spent every moment making Theo feel like he was his whole world, like Theo was the most precious, most important part of his life.

He said it in words, told Theo he loves him, that he’s cute, that he’s handsome, that he’s hot, that he can’t believe his luck that they get to be together, that he gets to be with him.

Every time they fucked—hell, even when they just jerked off together—he said it: “I love you, Theo. I love you. I love you so much.” He said it so lovingly and so wholeheartedly even when he was doing something filthy like stuffing Theo’s mouth with his cock and feeding him his load.

He said it when Theo was working, even sometimes when he was in the middle of a meeting. He would come at Theo from behind and wrap his arms around him, kiss the top of his head and tell him, “I love you, Theo,” and Theo’s colleagues would all stop and smile and collectively go, “Aww!” while Theo blushed super red.

The first time it happened one of Theo’s colleagues blurted out, “Holy crap, isn’t that your best friend? You guys got together?!” To which everybody reacted by making a variety of excited sounds, even the men.

Theo remembers him suddenly stop and turn around slowly. “I’m your best friend?” He asked Theo in a soft, shy voice.

“You’re my everything,” Theo replied seriously.

Of course he had forgotten to mute himself, and everybody at the meeting went bananas.

They went even crazier when he came right back into view and kissed Theo full on the mouth in front of everyone.

He showed Theo through affection. A touch to his wrist, the drag of a finger along his forearm, a hand squeezing his bicep, fingers curled around his nape and playing with his hair, tucking tufts of Theo’s hair behind his ear. Kissing his forehead, his wrist, even when they were out in public, even in the middle of conversations with someone.

And always, touching his face lovingly, tracing his features with those gentle fingers, making Theo feel so loved he thought he would burst from it.

Theo teared up sometimes when he did that, overwhelmed with love and affection.

He held Theo’s hand every chance he could get.

He copped a feel every time they wrestled or roughhoused, looking at once shy and naughty when Theo caught him at it.

He fondled Theo all the time, played with his cock and balls, groped his butt and slipped his hand in the cleft of Theo’s ass. And sometimes it wouldn’t even be sexual. He would do it in public—discreetly, of course—touching Theo over his clothes when he was satisfied no else was looking.

“I wanna feel close to you,” he would say. It seemed to Theo sometimes that he sounded vulnerable admitting to it, like he was worried how Theo would receive it.

“It’s yours,” Theo told him once. “All of it. It’s yours.”

Theo remembers everything about him, about the way he is, about the way they were together, about the way he was with Theo. But one of the biggest things that stands out is how he worked so hard and made every effort every time to make Theo feel desired and to show him his desire for Theo.

*

He flirted with Theo, wooed him and seduced him in his endearing and sexy mix of shy and naughty and hot and masculine and filthy, like Theo wasn’t a sure thing for him already, like Theo didn’t already belong with him, like Theo’s affection and body were something he had to earn every time, as if Theo hadn’t surrendered everything to him already with all his heart.

Everything.

He made an effort to make himself desirable to Theo. He always kept himself fit, but started to put in more work at the gym when he noticed how fixated Theo would sometimes get with his bulky muscles, how Theo loved to grope his pecs and his upper arms, how Theo loved running his hands all over his back.

How much Theo loved it every time he held him up from behind or from the front while he fucked his cock between Theo’s thighs.

He never wore deodorant when it was just going to be the two of them together, knew how much Theo loved his masculine smell, how delirious with lust Theo would get huffing, licking, and eating out his hairy armpits. He would taunt Theo all the time, coming back from the gym or from a run, sweaty and ripe, and just sit on the couch with his arms up and his hands behind his head, there in full view of Theo, until Theo would eventually give in, stop whatever work he’s doing, and they would spend the next half an hour or so fucking.

He always teased Theo about that particular kink—even though they share it—but it was always in a way that made Theo feel shy and vulnerable, sexy and desired, and deeply, deeply loved.

Theo always felt like that around him.

*

There were lazy weekend afternoons when he manhandled Theo on to the couch or into bed, stripped him naked and just worshipped his body, touched and kissed and smelled all parts of him reverently, slowly, like the touching and the exploration, the adoration, was the only point of it and the orgasms were just the side effect.

He would talk through it sometimes, tell Theo what he loved about what parts of him, showed Theo on his body where he himself likes to be touched and how.

The first time he did it Theo asked him what he was doing, because it didn’t feel quite like fucking. It felt like something else.

“Loving you,” he said, like it was obvious.

Theo thought he was doing it for him, to make him feel good, to make him feel loved.

And then Theo noticed how flushed he got, how he trembled and quivered, how his cock got so hard that it barely moved from its stiff upward angle despite its heft, how he leaked pre everywhere on the sheets and all over Theo.

Once, over an hour into it, Theo noticed him so particularly keyed up that he was almost shaking. He was breathing lungfuls of Theo's smell, dragging his face and his nose slowly, tasting him along the way with licks and kisses, from Theo's crotch, up his belly and his chest, in the dip of his armpits, the column of his throat. "God," he said, shakily through his uneven breaths, "it's like you were made for me, Theo."

Theo felt like he was. He made Theo feel like he was.

Theo pushed up a little on the bed and said, “I love you,” and his leg accidentally grazed his cock with the movement of it.

He cried out and started cumming all over Theo’s leg, gasping Theo’s name again and again, his lashes and eyes wet.

It was when Theo learned that what he was doing—loving Theo, as he called it—brought him just as much gratification and made him feel just as good as he made Theo feel.

That it was just as much for him as it was for Theo, if not more.

That he was so deeply into Theo he could cum just from that.

*

He orchestrated opportunities for Theo to spend more time with the pack, individually and together, acting as a buffer when it was needed, until, eventually, Theo started to form his own friendships with them.

He followed through with Theo about inviting his work colleagues over to the apartment. He helped cook, he helped host, he helped Theo feel more comfortable.

He helped Theo make friends.

*

They brought each other flowers, from the florist, from the grocery, from the drugstore, picked from the field or the park, bouquets, single blooms, daisies and dandelions pushing up from the side of the road or a neighbor’s yard.

And he would always say, “For my Theo,” with a dopey little smile and a shy look in his eyes. He would stand there, rocking on his feet with a slightly upturned face until Theo gave him the kiss and the hug he was angling for.

Theo thinks about that a lot, how he would always smile into the kiss, how that smile felt against Theo’s lips, the puppyish nuzzles and nudges. His little huffs of laughter while he kissed Theo.

Like being with Theo made him the happiest boy in the world.

*

And it wasn’t just when he was awake.

Even in his sleep, whether they were in bed or if he was taking a nap on the couch, he would seek Theo’s body, Theo’s warmth.

He would wrap himself around him in his sleep, press his hairy torso to Theo’s back the way he knows Theo likes, and there would be that audible inhale as he breathed in Theo’s smell.

He called out Theo’s name sometimes in his sleep. And he would follow it with a seeking, reaching motion, until Theo would touch him or nuzzle into him, and then he would settle, sighing his name again.

“Theo.”

*

He had sex dreams sometimes and would rut against Theo, his cock hard and leaking, mumbling Theo’s name, and he wouldn’t wake up until he’s just about to cum.

The first time it happened he made a mess of the sheets, and Theo had to clean it up and change it out for fresh ones, while he sat sleepily on the bench, apologetic and shy. He looked so adorable Theo had to stop a couple of times just to kiss him. He loved it, sighed Theo’s name each time, told him he loved him.

After that, Theo learned to attune to his body’s signals. He’d let him rut against him until Theo sensed that he was close, and then Theo would slide down and take his cock in his mouth, finished him off that way and swallowed his load.

He would wake up enough to mumble, “Thank you,” and, “I love you, Theo” and then fall back asleep in seconds, tucking into Theo’s body.

*

It didn’t change even after he went away for school.

He always found ways to make Theo feel close to him despite the two thousand miles between them.

He made sure to be super active on Instagram. He uploaded a ton of photos—selfies of him in his dorm, on campus, in class, with his roommate and classmates and his new friends. His Instagram Stories became exclusively video confessionals expressly for Theo even though they remained public.

“Theo, look—”

“Oh my god, Theo, you gotta see this—”

“Dude, Theo, whaaat the hell is this?”

“Theo, say hi to my friends!”

“Hey, Theo, doesn’t the sky look beautiful?”

“I wish you were, Theo.”

“I come here sometimes to watch the sunset. I can’t wait to show you.”

And always, always the same ending, the same sign off:

“I love you, Theo.”

*

They were so in love.

They loved each other so much.

*

For his part, Theo made sure always to reply to his messages within seconds of receiving them. Sent a ton of them as well. Good mornings, and I love yous, and sweet dreams regularly, and everything else in between. He picked up every FaceTime call. Called him himself just to say hello, to hear his voice, to see his face.

To see his eyes soften when Theo told him he loves him.

He sent care packages full of his favorite snacks.

He bought him an electric bicycle to help him get around better.

He changed his work habits to make sure that he wouldn’t be in the middle of work-related stuff in the evenings and the weekends when he often called.

It was hard, but they seemed to be doing okay.

*

He shared with Theo his roommate’s schedule so they could figure out when to find some privacy together.

They had a lot of sex over the phone and on video calls, their MacBook screens tilted to the best angles they could manage in order to see as much of each other’s bodies. They sent each other pics and videos to jerk off to, sometimes they looked at them together while they talked dirty and jerked off together.

A lot of times they would watch one of the many videos they made together and relive the experience or talk about how and what they’ll do next time they’re together, all the while pumping their cocks until they both blew their loads.

*

Theo flew out to see him a handful of times between breaks.

He was so happy to see Theo that first time that he cried in front of his classmates and friends when Theo surprised him at school.

*

He cried, too, when they said goodbye at the airport.

They both did.

*

Theo really thought sex with him couldn’t get any hotter for either of them.

He changed his mind during that first visit.

God, the ways they fucked.

*

It wasn’t a fluke.

It was that good every time they saw each other again after spending weeks apart.

*

In their quiet moments together they talked about the future.

They talked about taking a road trip home from Ohio after graduation. Driving westward across the country and hitting up state parks and national parks along the way. Going off road and sleeping under the stars in the truck bed. Theo already bought a rollup mattress that more or less fits back there and a mosquito net to hang up over it, because they were both on sale that one time on Amazon.

They were going to learn the constellations so they can stargaze and look for them

They were going to hunt for shooting stars to wish on.

God, how he loved making wishes. He always kept coins in his rucksack, would grab Theo by the wrist and drag him to even the most pathetic looking fountains. Always he would put a quarter in Theo’s palm, fold his fingers closed over it and say, “Make it a good one.”

He always let Theo make his wish first, as if Theo’s wish didn’t already come true, as if Theo’s wish wasn’t already standing in front of him, smiling, smiling, always smiling at him, and Theo had never known such happiness.

He wished anyway, for him to always be happy, for Theo to have what it takes to protect him, to keep him safe, to ensure that he would always be happy.

They were going to learn to ride motorcycles.

Theo was going to teach him how to skateboard.

They were going to look for a larger place, maybe even a house, so he could have his own workspace separate to Theo’s where he could edit his photography when he decided to get serious about it after Theo bought him a proper DSLR as a going-away present.

They talked about the future like they were going to have forever.

And it seemed like they were.

Theo bought a ring the day he got back to California after the first time he visited him on campus.

That it may have been premature never crossed his mind. To him, it felt only right. When he thought about the future, he saw only this.

He was going to wait until after he graduated. Until the road trip. Until he was too distracted looking up at the stars in skies to see the one Theo was holding in his hands.

It’s in the box now, along with everything else they had together.

*

Theo is not angry, though he has every right to be.

He’s sad and heartbroken. He’s lonely for him.

He misses him like hell.

Sometimes he thinks about the decision he made, the decision they both made, to be together, to be in love and be together.

To be more than friends.

And now they don’t have even that.

He thinks about how he told him everything he’s ever had in his life has always come at a price.

Well. This is what that cost.

When he thinks about it now and wonders whether he regrets it, he doesn’t know. There’s pain, yes. But he doesn’t know. Even after everything that has happened. Even after everything he has lost. He doesn’t know how to account for the balance of that.

How could he?

To have had that—to have had _all of that_ —with him.

 _With him_.

To have _given him_ that much happiness and that much love, when he wanted it from Theo.

To have received it in return.

Even if it was just for a short while.

When they kissed for the first time, when they fucked for the first time, and Theo felt what it would be like to be loved by him, it was easier to choose him despite having fought against it.

Because having tasted it once, Theo couldn’t imagine not having it at all.

And he thinks, even knowing what he knows now, if he had to make the choice again, he would choose him always.

*

During a dark moment, long ago, when they first became friends, and Theo was afraid of his uncertain future, afraid of who he is because he understood what he’s done but didn’t know what else to do, if there was even a point, he lashed out, tried to start a fight, tried to get his ass beat because at least that was something Theo could make sense of.

But he didn’t take the bait. He just kept trying to get close, to touch Theo’s arm, even as Theo pushed him back. Over and over until Theo gave up the fight, and he said to him, his hand’s grip solid but gentle on Theo’s arm, “I’m here.”

Theo didn’t understand, but he wanted it. And he hated wanting it, hated feeling comforted just being with him. Hated feeling safe. Hated not knowing what to do with it. “Why are you doing this? Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep trying to be my friend? I’m a monster.”

“You could be more.”

*

He chose Theo, too.

*

What he knows is this:

His Liam loved him.

He will keep that always, safe in his heart.

*

We let go of things sometimes without knowing it will be the last time we hold it.

Theo cherishes the holding.

And he’ll learn to live with the letting go.


End file.
